In The Abscence Of Light
by meenajon
Summary: Go read TIME AND CHANCE first! How do you carry on when the world has changed dramatically, and you're not sure if you can make a choice? Rated T rating may change later.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is the beginning of the sequel to Time And Chance. Please be patient with my updates, as I have a couple of these things going on at once, and I have to give them all fair attention. I won't update quickly with something that I don't think is worthy of being read.**_

_**Disclaimer: Never owned anything other than my plot. No one can sue me, 'cause it's all mumbo jumbo, anyway. Anything else is property of JKR, and though I would love to be in her place, alas, I am not.**_

_**Take care, and have fun with it, people. ; )**_

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt the sun come from behind the clouds. She smiled, peeking between her lids at the sight of two fathers and two daughters, playing before her.

Harry had Lily on a swing, pushing her higher and higher into the sky. Thank Merlin her daughter had inherited her father's love of flying. If Hermione had been on that swing, she was sure she would have emptied her stomach in an instant.

On the other side of the park, she could make out Draco, with Diana throwing sand at him from the sandbox, squealing in delight.

Sighing, she took a sip from her water bottle, thinking over the past two years. It had been full of difficult times.

The night of the magical transformations, as the wizarding community had taken to calling it, everywhere in England had begun a panick. Soon reports were coming in from other countries, only to confirm what Hermione had already assumed; that the white light coming through her and her unborn child had changed wizards everywhere.

After about a week's worth of chaos and confusion, the Ministry of Magic had begun coordinating with other institutions to re-train former witches and wizards on how to function in muggle society. It had been a long, hard road. St. Mungo's was overrun by persons suffering nervous breakdowns, who absolutely refused to go to Muggle hospitals, even though they were perfectly equipped to handle them. And more than a handful of prisons had quickly become overfilled with the Dark Lord's former followers. Very few of them seemed to come to terms willingly that they would no longer be allowed to practice magic – trying to do everything short of selling their souls to the devil in order to "get back" at what Hermione had done.

Her family had become stronger. She was still reluctant to marry Draco, who had asked her about a hundred times. Hermione was comfortable in her life. She oversaw the rehabilitation of magical prisoners, her children were healthy, and they both had their fathers and their mother in their lives. All in all, she was pretty much content.

The only question they had left standing was regarding Diana. What effects would the spell have on her? Every once in a while, she was seen doing wandless magic, which everyone else saw as something natural in a magical child who could not yet control her urges. But Hermione saw it as something more. Diana would get a twinkle in her eye, right before she would purposely move something, or transfigure an object. What other magical parents could say that their child could already consciously transfigure something at the age of two?

It bothered her. To Hermione, it was like a puzzle that she could not yet solve, because she had yet to be presented with all the pieces. It ate at her each and every day.

A soft cry brought her out of her thoughts. She saw Draco picking up Diana, who had tripped trying to get out of the sandbox. No matter what he tried to do to console her, there was only one thing that would make the little girl happy.

"Mama…mama…better."

Hermione smiled, rising to meet her daughter as the child was brought to her. Lifting up her leg, and seeing the little scrape on the two year-old's knee, she bent her head down and placed a feather-like kiss upon the alabaster skin.

"There you go, little one. Mama kissed it all better."


	2. Chapter 2

It was a warm Sunday evening at the Weasley family household, and Hermione and company had just flooed into the ancient house. Mrs. Weasley tut-tutted about the kitchen, Ginny helping her to set the remaining spots at the table in the garden. She was becoming increasingly irritated at the specter of her brother, chasing about the garden gnomes.

"Ronald, I realize that you really have nothing else to do, but would you mind finding somewhere else to do it?"

He took another dive at the gnomes, hiding in a patch of flowers. Thoroughly satisfied at his accomplishment, he floated over to his sister, sticking his tongue out at her.

"I'm having fun, thank you very much. At least I don't have to get rid of them anymore. I can just annoy them for my afterlife."

Exasperated, Ginny smiled at the sight of Hermione, Draco, Harry and the girls coming out the kitchen door. She trotted over to greet them with open arms.

"Hello there!"

She was greeted by warm hugs and a soft tug on her right pant leg. Ginny reached down and picked up Diana, who was fascinated by the young woman's flaming red hair.

"Ni-ni."

To the side, Lily was reaching up to her 'Uncle Won'. Even though she understood he was a ghost, she still couldn't quite grasp that also meant she could no longer give him a bear hug. After a few tries, she gave up, and picked up a mallet to help her Uncle George beat the garden gnomes into oblivion.

They all sat down to eat, Harry, George and Ginny on one side. Harry was flanked on either side by his old girlfriend and his spunky little girl. On the other side were Fred, Hermione and Draco. Diana sandwiched herself between her mom and the other Weasley twin after she was told rather nicely that it was either get off his shoulders or there would be an impromptu visit to the nearest loo.

Hermione watched the goings-on with a small smile on her lips. She would catch the occasional smile from George, who had finally managed to let go. From Ginny, she found out that he was dating a nice shop girl from Flourish and Blotts. In-between bites, her eyes caught Harry's. There was such a warm love there. Her breath caught in her throat, and she lowered her eyes quickly to her plate.

Diana was now almost three years old. But old habits die hard. Hermione did her best not to be alone with Harry. The daughter they shared meant that he was around almost all the time. She sighed as Draco squeezed her hands, and gave him a winning smile that let him know her heart was right where it should be.

Before the meal ended, Draco cleared his throat. She knew what he was going to say, and barely…just barely, cringed.

"Excuse me everyone…excuse me. Hermione and I have a little announcement that we want to make."

The table fell silent. Ginny smiled, a little twinkle in her eye as if she was already in on the surprise. Harry looked up from where he had been tickling Lily. He looked directly at Hermione, who still had the quiet little smile on her lips. She felt warmth, and happiness and home.

"Hermione, after much prodding and poking, has finally agreed to be my lawfully-wedded wife."

* * *

_**Yeah, a cliff-hanger, I know. I couldn't help it. But I've made updates two three of my stories in the last two days...so I'm happy and evil and such all at the same time. I guess the sugar/caffeine high I'm on doesn't hurt much, either. Take care, and I'll update on Monday. Toodles! - M.**_


	3. Chapter 3

_The look on Hermione's face was so full of joy, that it broke his heart_.

Lily had to tug on her father's pant leg to get his attention.

"Daddy, why's you so sad?"

That look was still breaking his heart. Harry carefully finished folding the shirt he had picked up from the laundry basket before reaching out to pull his frisky five year-old onto his lap. He gave her a quick hug and then turned her around to greet her with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Daddy's not sad, pumpkin. Daddy's just a little lost in his thoughts, that's all."

Cocking her head to one side, Lily's little green eyes got very wide, and then they narrowed in her perception of the situation.

"You're thinking about Mummy again, aren't you? Thinking about Mummy and Daddy Draco, my Daddy is…yep."

_Kids…can't put anything past them these days._ Harry gave her another hug, nodding in agreement. His daughter reached up and ruffled his already scattered hair, then pinched the end of his nose.

"Don't worry, Daddy. Mummy loves you, too."

When Lily said this, Harry stared off into space again, to that little part of his brain where he'd been seeing Hermione for the past three weeks straight. _Yeah, but I'm afraid she doesn't love me the same way that I love her_.

When Hermione had smiled and kissed Draco with the announcement of her acceptance of his proposal, a little part of Harry had died that day. The hope that he had held in his heart for more than two years fizzled into nothingness.

Every time that Draco had asked her before, Harry's heart soared at the news that she'd refused to marry him. Each time, that little part of him kept on hoping that one day, she would maybe be with him. But now…now that hope was shattered for good.

"And I have to be the best man. Bollocks."

"What was that Daddy?"

Not realizing he had spoken aloud, Harry's normally pale skin turned a bright red that Lily didn't think she'd seen before.

"Nothing pumpkin. Just thinking aloud about your mummy's wedding. Daddy still has to go be fitted for a proper set of robes, don't you think?"

Nodding furiously, Lily jumped off Harry's lap and began tugging on his wrist.

"Come, Daddy…come. Let's go now, can we? And maybe we can go visit Uncles Fred and George?"

Thinking that his daughter would probably one day get away with murder, Harry allowed himself to be pulled ahead to the floo. They were off to Diagon Alley, hopefully to forget about his troubles, if just for a little while.


	4. Chapter 4

**_This is a long one, folks. And I hope you enjoy it. I would appreciate your review, as it helps me understand if I'm actually doing something right. Thanks!_**

* * *

The sounds of Celine Dion coming through the loudspeakers did nothing to calm the nervous fluttering that Hermione was experiencing in the pit of her stomach.

_A new day has come_.

Indeed it had. They had been through their share of hardships and trials to arrive at this point, but Hermione wouldn't change it for the world. _Okay, maybe just a little_.

She smiled as she peeked down the church aisle at her two lovely daughters, with their dresses moving in the breeze. Not that there was a breeze to begin with, but Aunt Ginevra had managed to charm it to look that way. Her attention was drawn closer still, as she caught the glare that Diana directed to her older sister, apparently wanting Lily to give up whatever rights she held to the basket of rose petals that they had between them.

Hermione closed her eyes, concentrating to send her youngest the mental image of what punishment lies ahead if she didn't behave herself. Upon opening them, she saw that Diana got that message, as the little girl turned to nod to her mum before turning a brilliant smile back to those who were watching in the crowd.

She added a mental note to the list of things that they had been watching in which Diana was showing an early aptitude . The last thing Hermione and Draco wanted was for their little angel to become a trouble-maker so early on.

Her eyes were drawn to the end of the aisle, where she spied Harry, who was oblivious for the time being to her watching him. He looked so debonair in his black velvet robes, and someone had talked him into taming that usually disheveled hair of his. Then her breath hitched in her throat as she saw her groom walk into the chapel from the side hallway to stand next to his best man. He was wearing robes of dark green velvet, which appeared black until the material caught light when he moved. His hair was devoid of its usual product, falling softly to rest above his eyes.

"Breathe, Hermione, or we'll all be here for little or no reason at all."

She started, turning slightly to see Ginny Weasley standing beside her. She laughed a little, agreeing that she really needed to.

"Yes, I think I'd better. I don't wish to turn a color that is not becoming of the garment I'm wearing."

"Good luck, Hermione. That's my cue."

Once again, she found herself peering through the crack in the side of the doors, watching her maid of honor slowly traverse the stone floor. This church was an ancient one, full of history and tradition having been recommended by McGonagall herself. Their old professor had high hopes that her two favorite pupils would one day end up there, together. _And we did, just not in the way you envisioned._

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione almost missed her own cue as the familiar strains of the wedding march floated to her. She began walking forward, taking her steps slowly as to not trip up on her beautiful gown.

The Daily Prophet would report that she was a vision in cream. She had decided to forego the traditional brilliant white of most weddings. Draco and she had lived together for almost five years now, through the birth of two wonderful little girls, and she had decided she was obviously nowhere near virginal enough to wear that particular color.

Harry saw her enter, and stopped his own intake of breath for a moment. He knew what she was going to be wearing, having sat in on more than one planning session at the Weasley household, but he had no idea she was going to be this breathtaking in it. The bodice of her dress was a beaded cream halter that met at an empire waist, flowing to a loose-fitting and lightly beaded skirt, devoid of the typical tulle under skirting. Hermione wouldn't have it, and the Weasley women and she had gotten into more than one row over it. She had also foregone the traditional veil, not wanting to deal with its fussiness. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, with tendrils of curls falling down from it. Leaning over to the soon-to-be husband, Harry whispered softly:

"You know, if you ever do anything to hurt her, I'll kill you."

Even with the lightly amused tone to his voice, Draco knew that his best man fully intended to carry it out if anything ever happened to Hermione that was his own fault. He reached over and patted Harry on the back.

"Don't worry, Harry. I know you would. And thank you, for doing this. It means so much to Hermione…and to me, too."

Harry started. The relationship between he and Malfoy had always been slightly strained, even with the close proximity they had because of their respective daughters. That was the nearest he had ever gotten to a heartfelt thanks from the man.

"You're welcome, Draco. If you ever need anything, I'll be there."

Draco nodded again, chuckling lightly to himself as he watched his bride coming towards them. Hermione, being Hermione, was not only moving very slowly, but counting to herself as she came, trying to keep in time to the rhythm of the music. As she reached the steps where he stood, he took her outstretched hand into his, Harry and Ginny politely stepping to the side to take their place as witnesses.

The minister before them began his sermon on patience, faith, and everlasting love. Hermione looked at Draco, smiling and rolling her eyes as the old man droned on and on for quite some time.

"Anyone whosoever objects to the union of these two persons, speak thee now, or forever hold thy tongue."

A feeling of dread and foreboding overcame her at that moment. Trying to remain the picture of calm, Hermione turned and looked at the crowd of onlookers expectantly. She was greeted by all smiles, and turned back to the minister and Draco as relief washed over her.

It was a fleeting feeling. The familiar crack of someone apparating to just outside the church doors made Hermione cringe. _I've dreamt this before_. At the sound of the heavy double doors to the chapel opening, her shoulders sagged visibly. Draco looked at her with the utmost concern before turning his attention to see whose heels were clicking across the stone tiles.

"I object, your grace."

Pansy Parkinson, with two Ministry officials in tow, was making her way towards them. She was dressed to the nines in a tailored pantsuit that was unusually tasteful for her habits, smiling and waving to the flashbulbs of the Daily Prophet going off in rapid succession. What a story this would make for the next day's edition. Hermione closed her eyes. _Why didn't I finish those classes in Divination? Why didn't I pay attention to that dream?_ It had been so long ago, but she hadn't forgotten a single detail_. Maybe because I killed her in that dream, which is something that I just wouldn't do. Not that I wouldn't mind doing that right about now, but…._

As Hermione continued her own little conversation in her head, their former classmate slowly made her way to the front of the aisle amidst gasps and barely hid whispers, looking like the cat that had caught the canary. She held a long piece of parchment in her slender fingers, which Draco dreaded seeing at all, knowing that Pansy always had something up her sleeve.

"Parkinson, hurry up and get your melodrama over with so I can marry Hermione."

Pansy smiled, pushing the parchment closer to their faces. By then Harry had moved forward to see what the bloody hell was going on.

"If you look to paragraph C, subtext D, Draco Malfoy cannot marry anyone, including Hermione Granger, because he is already married…to…me."

"WHAT?!?!?!"

The outburst came from Harry himself, who grabbed the parchment from her, scanning over the words to make sure she was right. Draco turned to Hermione, who still had her eyes closed, whispering to herself.

"H-Hermione? Honey…?"

"Get...out."

The cold fury in her voice caused all those present in the chapel to fall to complete silence. No one had ever heard that tone come from Hermione's lips before. Not even Harry. Draco paled as he looked at her eyes, which were now open, her gaze unflinching.

"Hermione…you can't possibly think I had anything to do with this! It has to be something cooked up between Parkinson's parents and mine. Darling, I…."

"Get out, Draco. And take your…wife…with you."

She continued pointing to the door. Draco turned to Harry, a pleading look in his eyes.

"Take care of her Harry. This isn't over yet."

"I will."

But anyone who saw and heard him at that moment knew that Harry didn't really give a damn what Draco said or did. He was more concerned about Hermione's well being. Remembering their daughters at that moment, he looked over and sighted that George and Ginny had already scooped them up and rushed them out of the building.

"Let's go Parkinson."

"Don't you mean, Mrs. Malfoy, Draco?"

"Whatever…."

Hermione stood there, eyes blazing until they apparated away with a crack. Then she crumbled, falling to the steps in a heap. The skirt of her beautiful dress spread around her, making her look like a fallen ballerina.

Harry did the only thing he knew to do. He knelt down beside her, taking her into his strong arms as she was racked by sob after sob, the tears now flowing like a rushing river. At this point, there was nothing else he could do. Harry was just as lost as Hermione was.


	5. Chapter 5

The dim light filtering in the tightly drawn curtains painted a hazy picture in the room. The sight of which simply matched the way that Hermione Granger was feeling at that moment: completely in a haze. But every once in a while, her sad thoughts were interrupted by a flock of bright, yellow canaries popping their annoying little selves into her dark surroundings, and breaking into song.

"Harry, Harry…. Diana's up to it again."

She heard her daughter's lilting laughter come through the space underneath the door. It wasn't her fault, Hermione knew. The little girl was only trying to cheer her mother up. But the way Hermione had been lately, she felt as if nothing was ever going to make her happy again.

Harry heard Hermione's strained and faint voice calling from the room and walked down the hall and picked up one mischievous little lady, a sad smile passing over his lips.

"Come on now, little one. Your father's to be waiting."

"Uh-uh, Daddy Harry. No wanna go. Me no wanna see mean lady."

He could only surmise that Diana was talking about Parkinson. The fact that Draco had somehow gotten harangued into being married to that obsidian twit still got his goat. All Harry wanted was for Hermione to be happy and to be loved, whether that meant with himself or with someone else, he didn't care. _And then for all of this to have happened_.

"Lily, time to go. Your sister's leaving and Uncle Fred will be here any minute!"

His own daughter stepped quietly down the stairs. A little older than her sibling, she was not too young to understand that something was terribly wrong with Mummy. It had been a week, and Mummy still hadn't left that dusty old room. Lily had done her best not to disturb her in all that time.

"I'm ready, Daddy."

Diana looked down at her sister, her lower lip sticking out in silent protest. She didn't want to go to Daddy Draco's house. She wanted to go to Uncle's house with Lily. Uncle's house was always more fun than Draco's, and even at her age, she knew that she'd see no fun with Pansy Parkinson as a stepmother.

Just then the ashes in the living room fireplace began to glow, and Draco Malfoy stepped out of the mantelpiece. He quietly dusted off his shoulders, looking cautiously down the hallway, before reaching out and taking his daughter from Harry's outstretched arms.

"Still no change?"

There were dimly lit embers burning behind the green in Harry's eyes, before he masked them and shook his head in response.

"No. No change as of late. Oh, and Malfoy, be careful with her around Parkinson. I don't think Diana likes her very much."

Draco's mouth twisted into a half-smirk, half-frown. _I don't think anyone likes her much._

"I will. Maybe you and Daddy can keep quiet and out of trouble with the dragon lady, eh love?"

Harry just shook his head and chuckled softly.

"Actually, Draco…I don't think it is Diana I'd be worried about."

Nodding as he took a bit of powder from the pot, Draco whisked his blonde angel away to Malfoy Manor for a bit of rest and what would most likely be aggravation.

Harry bent down to pick up Lily, just as another visitor arrived in the fire. He kissed her quickly before handing her to Fred.

"Be good for Daddy and Mummy."

"Daddy, will Mummy be all right?"

He patted her on the head and smiled sadly.

"I don't know, pumpkin. I just don't know."

* * *

**_Hello everyone. I will apologize if there were any grammatical mistakes in there, as I wrote it rather quickly and whilst I was supposed to be posting accounts here at work. Take care, and review if you like. - M._**


	6. Chapter 6

Several more days passed, and Harry had been reading, sleeping and eating in the same room as Hermione. He got up only to relieve himself or wash up and after the fourth day had enough of watching his best friend wasting away in bed. After all, the only time she managed to get up was to do the same; and that was only with assistance.

The afternoon tea of the fourth day, Harry had decided on a change of plans. Instead of bringing the tea to Hermione, he was going to bring her to the tea.

"All right, love. Up we go; can't have you lying about forever, now can we? The healer said if we don't get those muscles moving, there will be no one left to chase after the girls when I go back to work. Now will we?"

For the first time in almost a week, a low mumble came from Hermione's throat. Harry barely caught it as he was half-carrying her down the hall.

"What was that? Hermione, did you say something?"

Again, but a little louder after she cleared her scratchy throat.

"I said, that's complete rubbish, Harry. You don't have to work."

"Oh, Hermione!"

Forgetting himself for a moment, he engulfed her in a bone-crushing hug. Then realizing that she was still in a delicate state, stepped back sharply, stooping over a bit to look her over.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Hermione smiled lightly, her eyes adjusting to the brighter light of the atrium, where Harry had led her. She shook her head no as he sat her gingerly into a rather comfortable armchair.

They sat there quietly for some time. Hermione closed her eyes to the increasing sun, wishing she could feel more of its warmth on her skin.

"Harry, I would like to go outside, if I may?"

Harry took another sip of his tea and nodded.

"Are you sure, Hermione?"

"Yes, please."

He rose from his seat, offering her an arm to support herself. The coolness of the air shocked her as the door opened, but was quickly replaced by the warming of her skin by the sun.

Looking down at her, Harry realized that her strength was still there, and that she wasn't really as frail as he'd originally thought. _Just tired_. She looked pale and tired, like a worn out student after staying up consecutive nights to study for final exams. Frankly, he didn't blame her body for wanting to shut down for a little while – after all that she had been through.

"Thank you Harry."

He kissed the top of her forehead, embracing her from behind as she stood there, smiling in the sun.

* * *

Each day, Hermione grew stronger. They passed them in a peaceful routine. Sundays through Wednesdays, the girls stayed at Grimmauld Place with Hermione and Harry. Thursdays thru Saturdays, Diana went to her father's house, while Lily had fun with her many aunts and uncles over at the Weasley household.

A couple of weeks had passed, and Hermione found herself stretching languidly after her midafternoon nap. She had begun to lie down each evening before dinner was served. She stopped mid-stretch, though, hearing raised voices at the end of the hall.

"This IS her home now. She's happy and healthy and comfortable here. That's more than I can say will happen than if she stayed over there."

_Harry, definitely Harry_. Her curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione quietly creeped along the hallway to get a better listen to the other voice. It was lower and muffled, and she could not make out to whom it belonged.

"NO. I've told you once and I'll tell you again. That place won't be home to her again; I'm sure of it. I'm not going to argue with you about it. You bought that place, and it's full of nothing but memories of you and her and a happiness that was more like a dream. Do you really think she'd be happy to go back there?"

"Potter, this place is dark and dank, and quite frankly, has always given me the creeps. Listen to reason, would you? She'll be happy there, I promise."

"No, Malfoy. I won't ever let you hurt Hermione like that again. Figure out your life, get everything situated. Because that's a decision that she'll have to make, when SHE'S ready."

_Draco._ Hermione felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. _How dare he?_ But the fire went out of her quickly as the tears began to flow. Just as quietly as she'd made it down the hall, she slipped back to where she'd come from.

She climbed back under the covers, completely forgetting that dinner was being served down the hall. Just as she fell into her own peaceful non-existence, the door to her chamber opened, and two green eyes watched sadly.


	7. Chapter 8

_**Hello all. I wish to apologize for the delay on updating this and my other stories, but as I had no computer access from home, and the pooter at work lost its mind and crashed…. I, just the same as you, had to wait until one of them got running before I could upload this bad boy.**_

_**So, without further ado, we continue, if you please….**_

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****

Hermione smiled as she read the card that Harry had placed in her duffel. A feeling of warmth flowed through her, abating only with the startling wail of the train's whistle, signifying they were on their way. A sigh escaped her lips and sadness crept in.

_I need this._

Harry had argued terribly with her, but in the end, he'd understood. Just three weeks; she'd promised. Hermione knew she needed to get away from everything that had been troubling her, and she had never, ever run away before.

Time had changed things.

She heard her stomach growling; demanding her undivided attention.

"Ah well, the loo and then a spot of tea with biscuits ought to take care of you."

But Hermione never made it to the dining car.

* * *

"What do you mean, she hasn't arrived?!? Miriam, I want you to call the station and see if she got off the train. And if she didn't, I expect you to have them scour it inch by inch. Is that understood?"

Miriam replied in the affirmative, and then left him listening to the dull and lonely sound of the dial tone buzzing in his ear.

Harry breathed in and breathed out, repeatedly doing so in a vain effort to calm himself. He wasn't sure what had happened to Hermione, but he could feel it in his Quidditch-trained bones that it was something not at all good. _Draco._

He had never felt any love for the man, but his nearest rival for Hermione's affections was also father to the sibling of Harry's own flesh and blood. He cringed at the voice that answered him in the floo, even before he saw the corresponding face.

"What do you want, Potter?"

He fought the disgusted shiver that went down his spine, concentrating on the task at hand.

"I need to speak to Draco."

"Just a moment, I'll…."

"No, Parkinson. I need him to come…here."

Pansy cocked a curious eyebrow at him, but said no more to question his request.

"He'll be there within the hour."

* * *

As the house elf left the room, Draco welcomed the few minutes he'd spend away from Pansy. He'd holed himself up in his study in the west wing of Malfoy Manor for nearly three days, desperately trying to find a loophole to get out of his current predicament.

He took hold of a pinch of the familiar bright green powder as he stepped into the study's fireplace.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place; house of Potter."

With less than his usual grace he fell with a thud onto the corresponding fireplace grate. He stepped out, wiping the soot off his crisp black sacks.

"Dada."

His precious Diana was standing there as he exited the flames, and threw her arms around his left leg. With a mischievous look, the little girl plopped down on his shoe and held his leg in a death grip.

"You no go nowhere."

"Malfoy?"

Harry came into the sitting room, looking pale and agitated to Draco's seasoned gaze.

"What's wrong, Potter?"

Carefully, he tried to extract his blonde sprite from his limb, but Diana refused to budge.

"Ah well…. What is it that you wanted again? I have got all day, Potter."

Harry motioned for the fairer man to sit, as he did so himself.

"It's Hermione, Draco; she's missing."

"She's WHAT?!?"

As he jerked upright, Diana took that as her cue to release her hold on her father, eyes wide and frightened with tears that threatened to spill at any moment. The youngster gulped and then quickly fled the room.

Draco raggedly dragged his right hand through his hair, fingers catching on invisible tangles betwixt the pale strands. He, too, had become a deathly shade of white, contemplating what Harry had just told him.

"Wait a second, have you…?"

Harry held up one hand, knowing exactly what Malfoy was thinking; that perhaps he wouldn't be quite as thorough as the former Slytherin king himself.

"Look, Malfoy. I may not have as much money or as many of your lovely connections, but I still can find out all the information I need when I have to. Hermione's train came to a stop in France, and she wasn't on it."

"Train? France? What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Harry sighed, leaning forward in his favorite and most comfortable wing-back chair. The pale light from the fire cast eerie shadows upon his face, making his cheeks appear more gaunt and hollow than before.

"Hermione left this morning for France, Malfoy. She didn't want anyone to know. She just wanted to get away…to find a little peace."

Draco bristled a bit. Why hadn't she trusted him with this? _Why Potter and not me?_ Before he could speak, Harry continued.

"She didn't tell you because she figured you would wish her to stay at one of your family homes. But to find some silence in the din, she went to…."

"Her grandmother's."

Nodding, Harry felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. Though Draco was not his favorite person in the universe, Harry still felt sorry for him.

"But Potter, what…. Oh."

The darker man looked to the doorframe, where the younger of Hermione's little ones could be seen beginning to creep back down the hallway towards the sitting room again. Draco then understood how looking at her own daughter, pale-haired with a similarly fair complexion like her father's, could cause Hermione unwanted and unneeded pain.

His lips drew into a thin, grim line.

"I see. No, you don't need to speak any further about it. The question now is what is being done about our Hermione?"

Harry smiled lightly before spending the next twenty minutes explaining how the Ministry had already become involved; how he'd called Miriam in France. And with each passing moment, Draco's heart filled with more and more suspicion and dread.

* * *

_Warm_. An incredible sense of warmth, enveloping her like a comforter fresh out of a dryer. She opened one eye, then another, and saw that there was no light in the room.

_In the absence of light is…darkness?_

"No. There is peace."

She felt peace the kind of which she was sure was only reserved for the recently deceased. But as she stretched her arms, feeling her right shoulder pop, it came to her that maybe she wasn't dead after all.

_Where am I?_

The thought was troubling to her, for in her mind, she could find no answer. But even more disturbing was the next that came.

_Who am I?_

"Ten times ten is one hundred. Okay…so my brain works, it's just…damaged? Great. I guess I need a Healer. Wait a second; what's a Healer?"

"Good question there, Miss. Doctor, I believe our patient has arisen. Very good, sir."

A heavily accented voice came to her from the corner of the room, but she still didn't see anything. She waved her hands in front of her face, but could still see nothing. The rising panic in her was conveyed as she heard her voice.

"Who am I? Where am I? What's happened to me?"

A gentle hand touched her on the arm, causing her to flinch involuntarily. It began moving back and forth in an effort to soothe her.

"Well, Miss, you've had a bit of an accident. Are you telling me that you cannot remember anything about yourself?"

She gulped past the lump in her throat, shaking her head to the negative.

"Oh dear. That is a problem, now isn't it? Not to worry…the first two questions are easy enough for me to answer. As for the last, you'll have to wait until the doctor comes. I already called him when you began to stir a while ago. Your name is Michaela Tobolovski, and you are sitting in a hospital in my dear Espana."


	8. Chapter 9

Days had gone by. Then weeks. Then months. No sign of Hermione anywhere.

"Where the hell are you?"

Harry knew, somehow deep inside, that she was not dead; she had not perished by some strange fate. No, deep in the recesses of his auror trained mind, he knew that she was still alive and kicking, somewhere.

"Daddy...I'm cold."

He looked up and saw the smiling face of his lovely little Lily, her green eyes sparkling in the firelight. She was wearing a pair of polka-dotted flannel pink pajamas, her hair flying every which way. Harry managed a small smile, and got up to put his daughter back to bed.

"Okay, love. Let's get your warmer and put you back snug under your covers."

Lily nodded, worried as she was about her daddy. She didn't understand everything the grownups were doing, but she knew Mommy hadn't been back in a while. And she was smarter than they thought, too. She knew that Mommy wasn't visiting a 'happy place'. She looked up at Harry from her pillow and said softly.

"Don't worry Daddy. Mommy's all right."

It was all Harry could do to keep a straight face as he turned off the light and closed the door, finally losing it as he passed by the atrium Hermione so loved. His muffled sobs broke through the quiet of the night.

* * *

In a much warmer climate, a young woman was sleeping late, oblivious of the fact it was time for her to be in class.

"Tobolovski, come on!!! You're going to be late again, princess!"

Michaela took a pillow from her bed and tossed it at the door, angry at being brought out of such a fanciful dreams. Such dreams had come more often over the past six months, but she still had not gleaned a single clue to her past other than what had been so dutifully provided by her servants.

"Cayate Ricardo. You're such an ass."

She slowly slid out of bed, shaking the cobwebs from her mind and making her way to the closet to get fresh clothes for the day. On the way she caught a glimpse of herself in a nearby mirror.

"Nope. Nothing. Just like every single bloody day of your life, Michaela. Your blank slate of a life."

She shook her head as she stepped into the shower, letting the warm water bead upon her head and back, thinking off all the things she had in her life. A butler, a maid; an entire estate and an inherited fortune at her fingertips. Why she decided to go to school instead of taking a year off in the south of France, she'd never know.

"Because you love it, and you know it."

The deep voice providing commentary ducked as he almost got a bar of soap shoved down his mouth,

"Tell me again, Ricardo, how it is you always know what I'm thinking and why the hell I put up with you anyway?"

She stepped out of the shower, wrapped tightly in her towel, her arms crossed before her in defense. Her Spaniard roommate stood there, fully dressed with a cat that ate the canary grin upon his lips.

"Because usually you speak aloud Michaela, and because you know, deep down inside somewhere that you're madly in love with me."

"You wish, Ricardo. You wish."

She pressed on, passing him and going to her quarters to get dressed. Indeed, she did enjoy going to classes, and so far had been able to memorize quite easily any fact or figure presented to her by the faculty of this institution. Michaela closed her eyes, a brilliant flash appearing in her mind before she opened them again.

Looking around, she saw nothing, and opened the door to her room, only to find said Spaniard standing there, arm outstretched. She took it, and they started down the hall together.

"Not too late for breakfast, am I?"

She laughed at the roll of his eyes, and they made their way to the dining hall, quite oblivious of all those around them.


	9. Chapter 10

Yes folks, tis I again. Miracles do happen, as I am FINALLY updating this old thing. I just had a baby - she's only 12 days old now...and I had some inspiration this week. Take care, and don't forget to review, as it will keep me going.

- M.

* * *

She walked silently into the room, clad in a silk robe of crimson, with a black and crimson nightie underneath. Her roommate was too busy trying to undress his latest conquest to notice her entrance. Quietly, Michaela stood, her arms crossed, absentmindedly looking at the tips of her fingernails. After about ten minutes she cleared her throat heartily to get his attention.

"Ricardo, don't you think you should let the young lady up for some air?"

She smiled as he finally took notice. Ricardo smiled and ran his fingers through his thick hair as his startled companion scrambled to find her once hastily discarded top. Michaela took advantage of the moment's confusion to dig a little.

"Oh don't mind me, dear. Ricardo always lets me watch."

The deep chuckle from her friend's throat indicated he was not at all troubled by the intrusion. Truth be told, he would probably welcome it...anytime.

"Come now, Michaela...you know you'd like to join us, now wouldn't you?"

Feigning excitement, she walked further into the room and jumped onto the large round bed, sitting in a crouched position upon her knees.

"Oh can I? Please?"

The lighter-haired goddess he had been working on suddenly gulped. With a thoroughly frightened expression, she then ran from the room.

Shaking his head, Ricardo reached down and picked up a forgotten article from the dark wooden floorboards. He held it in front of Michaela upon the tip of his index finger, a wicked smile upon his lips.

"So, do you think it will fit?"

She smacked him playfully on the shoulder and fastened her robe tightly shut; a wicked gleam in her own eyes.

"Fun time's over, Ricky...though as small as that thing is, it just might fit you after all. Ah, no matter... Come on, you! We've got Organic Chemistry in twenty minutes. Get a move on."

She slid off the bed and made her way to the door.

"One day, Michaela, and it will be you I spend my time undressing."

Looking over her shoulder at him, she rolled her eyes and then turned with a wink. The door shut behind her with a resounding click. She walked over and sat down in front of her ancient vanity, looking at the reflection before her. It had been almost a year since she'd been found upon the platform in the south of France. She could remember everything after that point of awakening, but nothing familiar greeted her mind from before it. Every day though, little things would happen that made her wonder if she was going crazy.

The first time was when she'd climbed into bed for the night. She had forgotten to turn off the bathroom light, its cold light glaring through the open doorway. Frustrated with an angry sigh escaping her lips, the light had gone off before her feet had even hit the floor. Attributing it to a burned-out bulb, she pulled the covers up to her neck and fell fast asleep.

But then it happened again.

The public restroom at the end of the hall... Someone had left the light on late one night. Irritated, she wished aloud that the light be off. Before she made it to the door, the room had gone dark, causing goosebumps to erupt over her fair skin.

As she thought of these oddities, the brush she had been using caught in her thick hair.

"Bloody hair. Oh I just wish for once it wasn't so difficult to get you straight!"

She looked up then, jumping away from her reflection with a squeak. The brush dropped from her hand to the floor with an audible thud. Her hair, which usually took the better part of half an hour to work out, had now become a straighter, more managable mane, falling softly past her shoulders

Shaking her head roughly, she blinked several times as if to make the obvious apparition in front of her go away. Opening her eyes suddenly, the mirror cracked into a hundred different pieces. Michaela almost fainted as she thought she saw, in one tiny sliver of the fractured glass, a pair of silver-blue eyes staring back at her. In the briefest of moments, she thought she heard a lilting giggle, before they were gone.

Not one to ignore divine intervention, she gulped, grabbing her books an rushing out the door to head to class.


	10. Chapter 11

Draco Malfoy sat before the fire in deep repose; his fingers rubbing incessantly at his temples as if to ward off some hidden demons. He did not notice when his daughter came in, nor how long she'd actually been standing there at his side. That is, until she finally screamed at him.

"Daddy, I said MAKE IT BETTER!!"

Shocked, he jumped forward in the armchair, nearly falling off onto the cold floor beneath him. It was winter here again, and he felt as if it would never leave him, save the little ray of sunlight there before him now.

"Bloody... Diana, what in the name of all that is holy is wrong?"

He looked down at her, standing there with her right hand held out, while her left hand was curiously hidden behind her.

"I got a boo-boo, Daddy."

Upon further examination, he noticed a small cut that was on the side of one of her fingertips. A small bead of blood was beginning to form there, which probably was what prompted her visit - not the actual cut itself. He managed a wan smile as he whispered a few words and the cut disappeared.

"All right, little lady. Now, are you going to tell me what it is that you've been doing today?"

Diana stood there, her lips suddenly sealed tight, her eyes widening as they looked all around the room...anywhere but at her father. She'd been caught.

"Hand it over, love."

She looked down, shaking her head furiously. But Draco learned a long time ago not to be deterred.

"Now, Diana."

Gulping, the now four year-old pulled her left hand from behind her, quickly shoving something shiny and sharp at her father. Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What is this?"

With barely a whisper, she confessed.

"I saw Mommy, Daddy."

Draco blinked several times and leaned forward. There was no way that he'd heard her right. The object in his hands was a jagged piece of a broken mirror, and his mind struggled to remember the significance of it.

"Excuse me?"

A little louder came Diana's voice as she was more insistent.

"I...saw...MOMMY."

He paled as the words sunk in. Draco looked around the room to see if anyone or any thing was paying attention to his conversation with his daughter. Convinced that they weren't, he leaned in close and whispered to her alone.

"Go play now, and leave this with daddy, love. I need to make a phone call or two, and we'll see what we can find out."

Suddenly happier, she kissed him wetly on the cheek and nodded in agreement.

"Okay Daddy. I go play now."

With that she left the room, and he reached in his pocket to grab the human gadget called a cell phone. It was time that he and Harry had a talk.


	11. Chapter 12

_**Long time, no see. Well, have fun with this one, folks. And if you please, write a review. I'm needing a little inspiration as of late. - M.**_

* * *

The phone rang, and Harry nearly jumped out of his own skin. No one ever called him on that thing, not even Hermione. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the small numbers on the gray screen, one eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he spied Malfoy's number there.

"What the bloody hell does he want at this hour?"

Carefully he opened it, listening instead of giving the normal greeting.

"Potter. Oh come on, Potter. Stop being so childish and answer me. I've got news of Hermione."

That did it. Harry was on edge, every fiber of his being reaching for something, anything that would make everything all right again.

"Hello? Yes, what is it Draco?"

"Diana saw her mother."

Draco's voice was strained, soft even. Harry had never heard it with such sadness before, but truth be told, there was no one who held more fault than Draco for this whole mess. It was a lot to carry upon one's shoulders. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he answered.

"What do you mean, Diana saw Hermione?"

On the other end of the line, Draco leaned back into his plush chair, suddenly feeling older than his actual age. He fingered the sliver of mirror in his hand, looking at it curiously.

"Do you remember that mirror of Sirius', the one you held in your own palm, years and years ago, Potter?"

The hairs on Harry's neck stood up on in, a cold draft drifting through the air to him at the thought of his godfather. His own voice came out as but a whisper upon the cold wind.

"Go on…."

"Well, Potter, it seems my Diana has gotten hold of a piece of it, and she swears by Merlin's beard that she spied her mother in it."

Harry dropped the phone, clearly shaken. With a trembling hand, he picked it up, speaking clearly into the receiver.

"I'll be right over."


	12. Chapter 13

The prickling sensation was there again. Just at the base of her spine it began, inching upward to her scalp. It was the sensation one had when standing across the room, and you could feel someone was watching you, waiting for you to turn around.

Michaela did, but no one was watching her. At least no one that she could see. She rubbed her arms quickly, warming them up with the friction of her slender fingers. It was a cool night, and they were at a ball in Venice, and she was smiling.

Her best friend Ricardo took one of her white gloved hands and pulled her into the ball, her wide scarlet skirt billowing out behind her as they twirled.

"You are looking quite lovely tonight, my little friend."

He said it with a smirk, making her eyes narrow and her lips twist wryly. Michaela knew that he wanted to be under that skirt of hers, but that she would never let Ricardo near her that way.

"And you are quite the debonair young Spaniard, Ricardo. Your charms won't work on me, love. Why don't you try them on that lovely blonde over there that has been eying you for the past hour?"

She chuckled as Ricardo imperceptibly twisted them around so he could look behind Michaela to see said blonde. And there it was again, just barely moving up her skin. Michaela ran her hand up her neck, her fingers lingering this time. The irritation on her face must have showed, because she looked up to see Ricardo staring at her.

"What is wrong, Michaela? Something, it is bothering you...no?"

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Yes, but I don't know.... It's like someone is staring at me; watching me. It's nerve-wracking."

Ricardo's grin broadened as he pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "Ah, my dear, little Michaela. EVERYONE is watching you tonight," before he swung her wide and her momentary cares were gone and she laughed aloud and smiled in earnest once again.

* * *

From a tiny alcove across the way, someone _was_ watching. A flash of red hair and the person was gone, like they had never existed.

Less than a minute later, they were standing in the pale white marbled halls of the new Malfoy Manor, waiting for Mrs. Malfoy.

* * *

"Are you ready, Malfoy?"

Two emerald eyes narrowed as they watched the pale blond wizard. The latter was straightening his tie, running his hands down the lapels of his dark jacket, ready for the dance.

"Yes, Potter. Are you?"

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath before they joined hands to disapparate together, probably the only time they ever would. But it was Hermione they were after. Once again in their lives with a common goal before them. Who would win? Who would lose?

Would either find their true love ever again?


	13. Chapter 14no, really

_**Fun, Fun, Fun. I've read some really nice stories over the last few days. Many of you have some fantastic and original ideas out there. The one critical thing I have to tell you all as an experienced writer: grammar and spelling mean more than you think they do. They can mean the difference between grabbing your reader's attention and running with it, and making your work dead in the water. Some things I had to force myself to continue reading, because I knew they were worth it, even though I was having to do mental hoops to get through them.**_

_**All in all, keep writing, and remember to enjoy yourselves while doing so. Toodles!  
**_

_**- M.**_

* * *

Harry never could get used to the opulence that some humans put into their lives. As he stood at the edge of the ball room, he marveled at the gilded panels lining the outer hallway. The ballroom itself was open, with a ceiling that could rival the Sistine Chapel. Someone, somewhere, had taken great care to paint the ceiling slowly and carefully to resemble it.

"Oi, Potter. I cannot believe I just said that. Potter!" Malfoy hissed in Harry's direction. It didn't help him focus. Draco tapped his wand against his pant leg, hopefully where no one could see it, sending a jolt toward Harry. It hit its mark. Harry jerked noticeably, then turned in Draco's direction.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked as he walked toward Malfoy. "You could have just tapped me on the shoulder." Harry shook himself, feeling an aftershock of the electricity that still buzzed along his skin. But now his attention was focused on the dancers before them. He looked over at Malfoy and nodded. "You take the left, I'll take the right. If neither of us finds her, we meet in the middle. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Malfoy replied. "Oh, and Potter...find someone to dance with. It will be less conspicuous amongst all these...muggles." Harry suppressed a wry smile. No matter how much they tried to beat it out of him, Malfoy still held a disdain for the common folk.

Without another remark, Harry began to walk toward the refreshments. It only took a few minutes of looking around before he saw her. It caused him to nearly drop the drink he had been sipping on.

There, right before him, was Hermione. She was more beautiful than ever. More poised, more articulate in her movements. He wondered what had happened to her. If, indeed, she was all right, why had she not returned to them - to her family? He stared at her being swung in a wide waltz like a dying goldfish before he realized she was heading his way. Her dance partner had released her, and she was making her way to get a drink.

Michaela walked briskly toward the refreshment table. Ricardo had insisted that she partake in three more dances. She glanced over her shoulder and her look of irritation was met with his look of amusement. It was no use. She could never remain angry with the man. Turning, she reached for a cup to fill with punch when a young man with dark hair and little round glassed handed one to her. "Thank you," she said, nodding at him. There was something curious about him, she thought to herself. His hair was a little unkempt; ruffled as if there had been a strong wind, but she'd bet all the money she had that it never did quite lay down on its own. She smiled at him, and the young man's bright green eyes lit up, sharing in the smile that passed over his lips. "Do I know you?" she inquired.

Harry couldn't believe it. He was there, standing right in front of her. But the words wouldn't come. His mind was fighting with what would be the right thing to say, when all he wanted to do was hug her. "Y-yes, Her-..." but he couldn't finish it. Her friend, the one she'd been dancing with, strode up to them at that moment.

"Michaela...be a dear and dance with me again," Ricardo began. Michaela rolled her eyes and sighed, indicating that she was trying to get a drink.

"Why, Ricardo? I just got here," she replied. She noticed that the green-eyed gentleman was watching the discussion with interest.

Ricardo waggled his eyebrows, a familiar smirk crossing those full Spaniard lips of his. "Because, my dear, you're going to help me get that blonde away from the other one."

Harry and Michaela both looked to where Ricardo was watching. He nearly choked on his punch, as it was Malfoy twirling around some blonde who had big breasts and a tiny waist and fit every American stereotype for a bimbo there was in the book. Michaela laughed at Ricardo and shook her head.

"I can't because I have a dance with...what was your name again?" she asked as she looked directly at Harry. "H-Harry," he stuttered. Michaela turned back to Ricardo as she held out her hand for Harry to take. "Harry, shall we dance?" She didn't wait for an answer, tugging on Harry's arm as she turned the tables on him and led the dance.

Harry had no idea what was going on. Here he was, dancing with someone he was sure was Hermione, but she and everyone else around her knew her as a different person entirely. As the danced, Harry realized they were getting further and further away from the center of the room and closer to the french doors that led to an expansive balcony. He allowed himself to be led, unsure as to where this was going.

Breathless, Michaela let go of one of Harry's hands as she pushed open the doors with a fair amount of force. The cold of the night air was a welcome surprise, even if it felt like she was being slapped in the face with it. She let go of the newcomer's hand, walking over to the railing - not caring if he followed her as she leaned over it a bit, looking down.

"You ever feel like you're lost? Like you're not quite where you're supposed to be?" she said to him, feeling him beside her without having to look. There was something about him, a familiarity that she couldn't place. As far as she knew, she'd never met him before in his life. But that feeling allowed her to say exactly what was on her mind as she looked up into the clear night sky, her mind a million miles away.

Leaning his back against the old stone so he could look at her, Harry responded. "Yes, Michaela. Yes, I do." The name that rolled off his tongue felt foreign to his lips, but it was a beautiful one. If she couldn't be a Hermione, she at least had this. But as he looked at her, everything that was before him was Hermione. He knew it was. Without thinking he reached out and touched her arm, his finger trailing along several very familiar scars, down to her wrist, which had an ugly one where she'd once been tied up against her will. When Hermione was using magic, she would make those scars disappeared. But tonight, she'd used a very muggle solution in covering them with makeup. But his thoughts were soon interrupted, as her friend had followed them and suddenly made his reappearance.

Ricardo looked from Michaela to this new suitor, one who was looking at her with longing and familiarity in his eyes. Michaela didn't register that he'd walked outside, captivated by this complete stranger as she was. He didn't like it, not one bit. He gritted the words out between his teeth, trying to retain his polite demeanor as he fought his rising anger, the words coming out clear but clipped. "What is going on here?"


End file.
